Enemy of the Lost
by baynard
Summary: Magical folks had kept themselves out of the business of the muggle world, however an enemy from the stars that threatens all of humanity is something even they cannot hide from for long. Will a young child soldier trapped in an unending war against overwhelming odds be able to rise up to save both worlds? Or will he like so many before him be swallowed by the fires of war?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: A quick explanation for those who are waiting for an update for my other stories, I haven't been writing much lately. I'm hoping to get back to it soon, but work and rest of life is taking up a lot of time and energy. This story was actually started a long while back and it's been sitting on a file on my desktop with the thought that one day I'd get around to putting it up online if it goes anywhere. I thought I had a fresh new crossover that nobody had ever thought of, but it seems I sat on it for too long and somebody beat me to it lol There's a few chapters already written that I'll slowly be putting out, because well why the hell not. I want to see some XCOM/HP crossover, so if this sparks an interest in someone then maybe I'll be able to read something good too. I'm a reader first before I'm a writer, so following this philosophy I think I'll put up a few more of my random story writing ideas I've got collecting dust on my desktop. Let me know what you guys think?**

James and Lily held their hands together tightly as they watched Dumbledore muse over the barely visible spark at the heart of the life stone. It had been a memento they had decided to keep, a heartbreaking token to remind themselves of the son they had lost. Life stones were magically linked to the living energy of a human being serving as an indicator of their continued presence amongst the living. For magical folks, it was something one kept of those dearest to you so that you always knew of their state of being and immediately knew of their passing.

For over sixteen years the stone linked to one Harry James Potter had been a dull smooth obsidian, a dark reminder of the life that had been extinguished the Halloween night of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal. The Potter's had been lured out of hiding on the false understanding that there had been new information gathered about the prophecy regarding their sons, only to return home to find it a ruin. Danny Potter had been found howling next to the lifeless form of the Dark Lord, a vicious gash cut diagonally across his forehead reminiscent of a lightning bolt. His older twin was nowhere to be found, and the lightless stone proved their worst fears.

The Potters had grieved for their lost son, even as they thanked their lucky stars that at least one of their children had survived. In time they managed to move on, the pain of losing Harry never truly fading to nothing but a burden they learned to live with. The arrival of more children helped, and time spent in peace finally managed to give them enough happy memories to move away from their horrid loss.

Then less than a year ago, Voldemort was resurrected and with him the pain that they had thought they had buried and forgotten. Both reacted differently to the news of the return of the dark lord, each coping in their own way. James threw himself into his auror duties, pushing with all the authority his position as a captain afforded him to disrupt the plans of the Dark Lord and capture as many of his servants as possible.

Lily on the other hand had become more reminiscent. She spent a lot of time digging up and looking through old photos and items that had belonged to Harry, all neatly tucked away in the attic of their home, too painful to look at but unbearable to lose. It had been on one of these memory trips down that lane that she had worked up the courage to look at the little black stone that had represented on oldest son's life, kept in a dark box at the bottom of a locked trunk. Lucky she did, otherwise they might have never known that the stone was no longer lifeless.

It glowed once more with faint light.

"Albus what does it mean?" Lily asked in a shaking voice.

Hope was a painful thing. All the old wounds and dull aches had been torn open again at the possibilities running rampart through her mind. It would kill her if the truth remained the same, but perhaps it would hurt even more if it were untrue.

"Harry," whispered James. "He's alive isn't he? That's what the light means! But how is it possible? It had been extinguished, we all saw that!"

The old wizard stroked his long beard, tapping the stone with his wand thoughtfully.

"It is as you say, a light in the life stone indicates that an individual is alive. I might have a theory on why it had been lifeless, though first I must ask you a question. When was the last time you looked at the stone?"

Lily and James exchanged a pained glance.

"It must have been when I found out I was pregnant with Rose," Lily replied quietly.

The healing process for the Potter's had not truly begun until the coming of their first daughter, two years after they had lost Harry. They had both agreed that while honoring the memory of their dead child was important, their living children took priority. The stone which had been kept on the space above the living room fireplace had been removed and placed within its current box and placed carefully at the bottom of the trunk full of Harry's things. Nobody had touched it for thirteen years.

"I see," said Dumbledore.

The older wizard muttered something under his breath and tapped the stone again with his wand causing it to glow yellow briefly before returning to the faded emerald color.

"What does it mean?" James pleaded.

The anguish of the mere thought of his oldest son being alive was painful to hear. In the faded light cast by the dying embers of the fireplace, the normally light hearted man seemed a mere shadow of himself.

Dumbledore sank back heavily into his chair, suddenly looking older than he had all night long. "Life stones are in fact a bit of a deceiving name for these artifacts. What they in fact are tuned into is not the life force of the individual, but the magic at their core. It's why you cannot tie a life stone to a muggle, there would be nothing for it to detect."

"It had been extinguished after that night," Lily said slowly, her mind working over the headmaster's words. "Are you saying Harry lost his magic after Voldemort's attack?"

"It is quite possible," said Dumbledore with faraway look in his eyes. "It's not unheard of for adult wizards to damage their cores under stressful magical circumstances. Often times it is irreversible, leaving them little more than squibs. But perhaps it may be possible for a child to mend their core given enough time. After all their magic is still growing and quite malleable unlike an adult who has reached their majority. It might explain why the stone's light does not shine as brightly as it should; young Harry's core is still quite weak despite having rebuilt itself somewhat."

James jumped to his feet and began pacing the headmaster's office. "We need to find him Albus, bring him back. We have some of his old things, a tracking charm maybe? Or we could use-"

"James," Lily interrupted gently. "Are we sure we want to do that?"

The dark haired man stared at his wife, unable to quite understand what he was hearing. "What? Of course we do Lily! Did you not hear Albus? Harry is alive! We have to find him, bring him home!"

"You know there's nothing more I want in the world," the red head said quietly. "But James, Harry has lived his entire life without us. He probably has his own family, his own life, a place he calls home. What right do we have to tear him away from all that to bring him into a world at the brink of all-out war?"

That thought gave the man pause. His gut reaction was to tear the world apart to locate his lost son, but Lily had a point. Bringing Harry back now would only bring him into more danger. Perhaps he was better off wherever he was, blissfully ignorant of the dangers if a bit curious of whom his actual family was. Maybe after the war was over they could track him down and make sure he was alright.

Running an unsteady hand through messy dark hair that had seen its first strand of gray last summer, James sat back down on the seat next to his wife shoulders slumped in defeat. Lily rested a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, loving eyes full of understanding.

"I just wish I knew he was ok," he whispered tiredly.

"I might be able to help you with that," said Dumbledore brightly, the twinkle returning to his eye.

Both parents turned to look at their former headmaster with hungry interest.

"It involved a rather obscure spell that I once found when I was a youth, and creative use of a pensive which I happen to own."

The older man began rummaging through the drawer of one of his desk, muttering questions to himself about where he had placed the blasted thing. Lily hid a smile behind her hand. Only Albus Dumbledore could misplace one of the rarest magical devices in the world.

With a grunt of effort the older man heaved the stone basin filled with smoky liquid onto his desk. Taking the life stone, he dropped it into the misty fluid, the dim shadowy glow of green the only thing visible.

Both James and Lily leaned forward as the headmaster began incanting in a language that was certainly not Latin, periodically tapping one of the four corners of the basin in accordance to the points of the compass. The mist writhed and coiled in agitation, rising up to form a smoky shape. Slowly the image cleared and the foggy form took on a person's head.

Lily gasped as she laid eyes on her lost son for the first time in almost sixteen years. Distantly she could hear James fall back into his seat, equally stunned by what he was seeing.

Unlike Danny who was a cutting image of his father with a messy mop of dark hair and Lily's eyes, Harry only bore some passing resemblance to either of his parents. Black hair had been cropped short until it was barely a bristly over his scalp, removing the telltale Potter wild mane. His features were similar to James, though his cheeks were leaner, and the nose belonged to Lily. Where once had been green eyes like his mothers, the irises were now flecked with gold, and there were a smattering of scars that ran across his face.

One cut a slash from the upper corner of his left eye next to his nose down past his jawline. The skin around the same eye was ragged with healed tissue as if a clawed hand had tried but failed to take his vision. An angry red X shaped scar was carved onto his right cheek, the wound still relatively fresh given the color of its pallor.

The scars took away from his handsome features, though unexpectedly it also added a certain weight and forbiddance to his presence. Even through a smoky image, there was something about Harry that made it difficult not to pay attention to.

He was speaking, though the words at first came out as a distant noise, an echo spoken at a great distance. Albus continued his spell as the parents watched their son speak in a mesmerized fashion and the words began to sharpen until they could finally understand what was being said.

"I'm honored sir, but I'm not sure this is the wisest decision. I'm not a leader like McCoy or Randel," Harry said, voice flat.

A distant resounding voice answered, presumably whoever he was talking with.

"People aren't born leaders son, they're made into them through experience. Quite frankly, you wouldn't be my first choice either given your background and age, but currently you're the only one that fits the criteria."

"Has it really gotten that bad?"

"I don't know if anyone's told you, but as of this moment you are not only our most senior member of the strike force, but you have more field time deployed against the enemy than our next three most experienced operatives combined. Whether you feel you're ready to take on the role of squad leader or not, the truth of the matter is no one alive or capable of battlefield deployment on this planet has as much experience as you do against the enemy."

There was a long pregnant pause as Harry seemed to look down at his hands.

"Why did you send all of Red team up there?" he asked quietly. "You had to have known what might have happened."

The other voice gave a heavy sigh. "It was a calculated risk. Anyone else I sent would have failed for sure, but Red team had the best chance of succeeding at getting what we needed."

"We weren't ready," Harry replied bitterly. "Not by a long shot. You sent us into a cluster fuck hoping for a miracle. Was it worth it?"

"God help me, but it was. I sent the fourteen of you up there to die, in exchange for the off chance you'd be able to gain the intelligence we needed. Their deaths were not in vain, what we learned will help us prepare for the coming invasion."

Harry scowled darkly, his features twisting into a hateful expression. "So it hadn't been the mother ship then. Guess that was hoping for too much. Can I know what's to be expected, or is that classified?"

"Let's just say it's about to get worst, a whole lot worst. We'll be looking back at kidnappings and UFO take downs as the good old days soon enough. This is why I need you to step up and take charge."

"I'm a seventeen year old street punk whose lucky streak is fast coming to an end Commander. Even if I did take you up on it, you think others will follow my lead? I'm just a kid in their eyes."

"You stopped being a child the minute you agreed to join XCOM son. You were a part of Red Team, the most experienced strike force we had against the aliens. You've fought against them all, both EXALT and the Invaders. You were there to retake Shanghai, you were there during the outbreak in Moscow and you were the only one to walk off that battlecruiser in orbit before we blew it to hell. That's the reason they will follow you."

"I've never even been to officer school!" Harry protested weakly.

"Oh rest assured, you will. During your down time I expect you to be learning the finer points of being an officer above the rank and file. At the moment though, I need you to have the authority to command more than your ability to do so. These new recruits are used to taking orders from an officer. Despite what misgivings they might have, they'll shut up and fall in line when someone with the right bars on their shoulders is shouting orders at them."

"How many are we talking about?"

"100 new recruits will be arriving to bolster our ranks. More will be shipped in to take the place of the fallen."

"Jesus Christ." Harry ran a hand through his scalp, unknowingly mirroring the motion his father had just made minutes before. "You sure there's no one else up for the job?"

"Even if Lang or Ramses were back on their feet, neither have as much experience as you do nor would they be any better off as officers. If we ever get them operational again, you can expect both to join you in the position as officers, but as of now, you will take the lead of XCOM's strike team."

"There better be a god damn pay raise for this crap," Harry grumbled with a scowl.

"Money won't do you much good if the world's on fire, but yes, you'll be getting a substantial compensation for the responsibilities of your new station. I take it it's a yes then?"

"Alright Commander, you've convinced me. But I reserve the right to tell you, _I told you so_ , when this all goes down in flames around us sir."

"I imagine that would be the least of my worries if that time ever comes."

The image slowly melted back into formless mist as Albus released the scrying spell he had been using. The elderly wizard had a thoughtful frown on his face. Both James and Dumbledore being purebloods were more confused than Lily who had some understanding of how the muggle military worked, though the context of the conversation was all over her head.

The only thing the occupants of the room could agree on was that perhaps they should go make sure Harry was alright sooner rather than later. It sounded like the lost Potter was mixed up in some nasty business.

 **AN: Just on an off note, anybody besides me excited as hell about XCOM 2? I've been replaying Long War just to get pumped up for the February release, and I think I'm going to live up to the lost war theme they got coming lol Feel me to drop me a review letting me know what you're looking forward to the most!**


	2. Chapter 2

Harry sighed as he ran a nervous hand through his close cropped hair. He'd spent the better part of the past two years with the military crew cut, yet the feel of air on his naked scalp still felt oddly out of place. The din of the newly arrived recruits could be heard from the cargo bay, one hundred people shuffling about wondering what to do with themselves after being dropped off at a secret location that officially didn't exist. One hundred new fresh meats to be thrown into the grinder. One hundred people he was supposed to find some way of rallying and leading against the alien invaders.

Seeing no point in putting off the inevitable, Harry straightened his spine as Colonel McCoy had chided him for so many times before marching into the skyranger bay. The crowd of unfamiliar faces milling about staring around with obvious interest was an even mix of people of all ethnicities. These soldiers had been drawn from a pool of the best candidates from around the world. Some of them had been chosen because of their extensive training and commendations for action taken in the field. Others had been picked because they had fought the aliens first hand and survived to tell the tale.

Heads immediately turned when Harry walked through the automatic doors, the hiss of the parting entryway announcing his presence. The clamor died down as two hundred eyes turned to look at him, and the newly minted lieutenant had to fight back the urge to run. Somehow he managed to keep his expression bland despite the pounding of his heart.

He wasn't ready for this. The commander was wrong, there had to be a better option. Sure, Harry had survived some horrific battles. Hell he'd taken the fight to the aliens on their own turf more than once. That didn't qualify him to lead people, to pick and choose who lived and who died.

The expressions that faced him ranged from mildly curious to slight shock. They were disciplined enough not to begin whispering to one another, but more than one uneasy glance was shared between the recruits.

Harry couldn't really blame them. Most days he looked in the mirror and had to fight back a flinch at the reflection that stared back out at the world. Facial scars were hard to ignore, but perhaps what was more startling about his features were his eyes. He'd been complemented for his emerald eyes for as long as he could recall, but now they were mixed with the telltale gold flecks that indicated ocular meld modification. In dim enough light, his eyes seemed to almost glow unnaturally.

While Harry tried to find some reason to turn back, someone finally noticed the bars on the shoulder of his new officer's uniform. The silent landing bay echoed loudly with the thud of a duffle bag being dropped to the floor in their haste to snap to attention.

"Atten–hut!"

Drilled into them like reflex, the other men and women all snapped into rigid positions and saluted him, their faces instantly losing all expression and becoming eerily blank. It seemed the commander had been right about one thing, whatever misgivings they had about him was carefully being kept behind a wall of military discipline. Hopefully that would make life easier on Harry.

"At ease," he finally ordered after a long moment.

The rough rasp of his voice was the legacy of inhaling too much thin man toxin, his voice box horribly scared from the unfortunate ordeal. Even with the advanced healing technologies employed by Dr. Vahlen and the medical staff, it had taken months for the hemorrhaging to clear up enough for him to speak again. Being unable to speak above a whisper had been annoying, but it certainly hadn't stopped the commander from deploying him on missions.

The soldiers relaxed from their rigid postures into wide legged stances with hands clasped stiffly behind their backs. Even after having spent a year in XCOM, Harry wasn't used to the harsh disciplinary nature of most military organizations. Colonel McCoy had been rather lax about salutes and proper address of superiors outside the field given the small close nit groups they operated in. But with over one hundred new members and probably even more coming in to replace losses, Harry probably couldn't afford to use the same lassiez faire approach to command.

"Welcome to XCOM recruits," he began, his scratchy voice echoing to all corners of the landing bay. "As of the moment you signed onto our clandestine military structure, you have agreed to leave both nationality and ideology behind. You now fight for a cause greater than any one organization or country. You are fighting for the very survival of humanity."

The preplanned speech he had written and rewritten flowed off his tongue smoothly. Harry had never thought himself a natural orator, but having faced down a charging berserker armed with only a combat knife, talking in front of a crowd suddenly wasn't as bad as he had once imagined.

"Cast aside any prejudices you have against your fellow man, whether it be for their nation of origin, the color of their skin or the gender of their birth. These men and women around you will be your brother and sisters in arms. You will eat with them, sleep with them, train with them, and when the time comes, die for them."

In his own mind Harry saw a glimpse of the friends and comrades he had lost. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent the flashbacks that threatened to overtake his psyche. They had died for the cause; the least he could do was honor their memory by carrying on the banner they had given their lives for.

The head shrinks told him it was normal given how much he had gone through, but he hadn't told them about the flashbacks. They'd take him out of the game if he did, and as of now he could still function. How long he could keep that up was yet to be seen, but damned if he wasn't going to try.

"Mankind is at war. For years it has been a game played in the shadows, fought away from the eyes of the public and kept secret from all but the highest echelon in the governments of the world. You have all been briefed on the enemy, and a few of you have even faced them on the battlefield. But understand this, the rules have changed. No longer is the enemy content with striking where they can't be seen; no longer is the enemy hiding behind a veil of secrecy."

The scales of the firefights XCOM strike forces had been dealing with had indeed slowly morphed from quick strikes to all out battles of attrition that lasted for hours, even days. Enemy numbers grew with each engagement, faster, stronger, and better equipped.

It had been outskirt places at first, rural farm areas on the fringes of civilization no one would even notice was missing for weeks on end if it's inhabitants were taken. Then came the invasions of small towns, where a couple thousand people lived. The scale of the alien invasion got to the point that even with governments tamping down on the media people were beginning to notice that something was wrong. And of course there was the battlecruiser their probe had found lurking out behind the dark side of the moon.

"I will not lie to you. Many of you will die. Those who survive may very well wish they hadn't."

The image of Corporal Lee lying in the hospital bed with both legs and a left hand missing came to mind. Poor bastard had been one of their fastest sprinters, lightening on his feet. It hadn't been enough to outrun the powerful guns of the first cyberdisk they encountered, although anyone else probably would have been brought home in a zip lock bag.

"You will be supplied with the best weapons that mankind can field. Protected with the best armor that has been produced. Your very bodies will be modified to give you an edge no other human soldier in history has ever enjoyed."

The breakthrough Vahlen had discovered with meld had been a game changer. Incorporating an unknown alien substance with humans had been beyond risky, but the payoff had allowed XCOM troops to keep up with the ever increasingly powerful aliens they were running into. The process was far from perfect, more than one soldier died or had their career cut short after a stay in the gene tanks. Even now the chance of death resulting from rejection hovered at almost ten percent and another fifteen percent of participants would step out as cripples rather than super soldiers.

"And yet still, it will not be enough. Even with the best equipment and genetic alterations, what will see you through battle is what comes from within."

Harry had thought long and hard on the points he wanted to hammer home to the new recruits. It was easy to get overconfident when you could swagger onto the battlefield decked out with ultralight armor that could deflect bullets, guns that could reduce targets to ashes and the ability to kill with your mind.

Against any conventional force found on earth it probably would be more than enough. But their foes had access to better technology, better resources. No, research breakthroughs gave them a leg up, but at the end of the day it wasn't what allowed them to win.

"Courage."

Lance Corporal Reed, rushing alone through a ship full of chrysalids with nothing but a shotgun and six rounds left in the chamber to reach the transponder that would see the horrific creatures halted before they could spread beyond the harbor. It had been a death sentence and he knew it going in, but instead of cowering when his team had died around him he had made the impossible happen.

"Commitment."

Sargent Reeves, leading a strike team to disable the bomb that would have torn a major city apart even though orders had been to retreat. It had been a near thing; Shen had calculated that given the energy readings building up in the location, they had been minutes, perhaps even seconds away from losing Chicago. It had cost the Sargent's life and half of her team, but millions continued breathing because of their sacrifice.

"And the willingness to give your life so that others may live."

Colonel McCoy, struggling through mind control in order to kill himself to give Harry the chance to disable the Sectoid Commander on the bridge of the alien ship found behind the moon. With the never before seen species of sectoid pacified, Harry had trashed the bridge with gunfire and explosives, lowering the battlecruisers formerly impenetrable shields.

Nuclear strikes carried out by hurriedly retrofitted interceptors that were barely space worthy had taken down the gargantuan vessel. Thirteen lives given to the removal of one threat. In the grand scheme of things, a cost well worth paying. For Harry who had been the only one to step off that ship, it was hard to see the truth past the mounting pile of bodies made of friends and comrades.

"Am I understood?" Harry asked quietly.

A hundred voices answered in zealous agreement.

Somehow he doubted they did. Harry certainly hadn't when he had first been recruited. But they would in time, just as he had. Enlightenment purchased at the cost of blood, tears and lives. And pay they would.

The fires of war would separate the capable soldiers from the dead ones. From the pool of hardened survivors, he would build the new Red Team. Like a dark phoenix rising from the ashes, the spirit of his dead comrades would be avenged.

 **AN: Finally got around to fixing up chp 2. Let me know your thoughts. Can't wait for XCOM 2!**


	3. Chapter 3

Harry checked his laser carbine for the fourth time as Big Sky brought them closer to their destination. It'd been a hectic two weeks since he had gotten his promotion, so much to do in regards to paperwork for the recruits. He'd never suspected how many forms were involved with running an army, but he was beginning to understand why officers all had their own desks in the office space set up behind the operation center.

Bradley had showed him how to handle most of it, but even with pointers it still gave him a headache worse than a sectoid psionic attack. If it hadn't been for the half dozen missions that had popped up over that same time period Harry probably would have gone mad from checking boxes and signing lines.

Most of the missions had been clean and easy. Go in, wipe out the enemy, secure the dead bodies along with any alien tech, go home. Harry had personally led all six of the missions, rotating out as many of the recruits as he could in order to give them experience on the field. There had been a few injuries, some that required simple medical attention and bed rest, two that required extended hospitalization. But so far there had been no deaths. He counted that as a victory.

At the moment the skyranger was taking Harry and the rest of his strike force to a location somewhere in Great Britain. Upgraded civilian satellites had picked up the now familiar unusual alien energy signatures and the call had gone out to XCOM through unofficial back channels. His team was in the air in less than ten minutes after central had received the intel.

Not bad, but they weren't going to win any wars with that kind of reaction time.

Harry was tired, he knew he was fast reaching the burnout point after going on six missions back to back with little time to rest in between. He'd have to designate other team leaders soon, but he wanted to see them all in action before he decided who would be given command on the battlefield.

All the mock combat exercises in the world wasn't a replacement for actual field testing. The best leaders during practice runs didn't always perform as well when the bullets flying overhead were real. You never knew who would crack under pressure until the pressure was on, and Harry needed to make sure his squad leaders wouldn't break. A lot of people learned their limits the first time they faced down a howling charging berserker muton. Team leaders needed to be able to keep their heads on straight no matter what situations they found themselves in.

The Commander had been patiently waiting on Harry's report on who to promote, but the leader of XCOM made it clear that he wanted it soon. Harry already had two people he knew for sure he wanted leading strike teams if he were not on board, both of whom he had already written up reports for though he had yet to submit them. Currently on this mission, he was evaluating a third candidate he felt might have the disposition to give orders when under fire.

Recruit Brown was a jovial man who seemed to get along with everyone he ran into. Cool under fire and steady with a gun, he had proven himself to be a solid asset on the last mission Harry had taken him out on. The only problem Harry saw was his tendency to make a joke of everything. Humor was good for keeping up morale, but if he couldn't take things seriously then people could die.

There were four other privates with Brown, all of them having not yet seen the battlefield while wearing XCOM colors. Harry had carefully read all the dossiers on his soldiers and was meticulous in his decision making when it came to team arrangements. Everything from physical capabilities to compatibility based off of psychological profiles had bene considered when assigning squads, with some input from Dr. Vahlen and Bradford.

PFC Sheng had been in the psionic chambers but tested negative much to her disappointment. The woman had been looking forward to killing things with her awesome "Jedi mind powers" as she had called it, but would have to content herself with using a gun.

The man cradling a laser sniper was PFC Walker, a dark skinned British native who had undergone a regiment of genetic treatments. His amber eyes had been modified to help his ability to aim and spot rapid movement, and his leg muscles given the thin man's unnatural ability to leap great heights to give the sharpshooter the ability to get to better vantage points rapidly.

Seated across from Harry was a large Japanese man fiddling with a heavy Gatling laser. PFC Yoo had quickly been nicknamed "Sumo" by the rest of his squad mates for his size and ethnicity much to his amusement. Best described as a wall of muscle, it was unsurprising that he could handle like toys the heavy weapons others struggled to even lift.

The last member of the strike team was PFC Fisher. Tall and lanky, the designated medic of the team wore spectacles that seemed constantly at risk of slipping off his nose. He looked uncomfortable wearing the dark olive carapace armor they were all equip with, and even more ill at ease holding the heavy laser carbine in his hand.

In all honesty he looked better suited to be working in the hospital wearing sterilized scrubs, but the man was one of the few who had been recruited specifically because he had fought against the aliens. Fisher had been part of an American army patrol in Afghanistan that was unfortunate enough to run across a pack of mutons kidnapping locals.

He had survived with two others out of his squad of eight, but was the only one recruited because the other two had suffered mental breakdowns after the ordeal.

"So LT," said Brown casually, "What outfit did you serve with before you got roped into this circus?"

The other members of the team perked up with interest at the man's inquiry. Harry hadn't been very forthcoming with himself despite encouraging others to get to know one another. He'd trained with them, ate with them, and led them, but mostly kept to himself otherwise. Nobody had really worked up the nerve to ask about him yet. Guess he couldn't stay a recluse forever.

"I think the real question you want to ask is how old I am," Harry corrected dryly.

There were some sheepish grins breaking out on the members of the strike team as they all nodded. It had been a point of debate that had been thrown around in the barracks whenever Harry hadn't been present. None of them were high up in rank to have access to the profiles of individual soldiers so they could only guess from what stories they had gleaned from other base personnel.

"You're twenty-six aren't you Brown?" Harry asked.

The man chuckled. "Yeah you caught me, two months before I hit twenty-seven."

"And three years from hitting the big three zero!" jeered Sheng causing the others to laugh and Brown to flip her the bird.

"Well you have about a good decade on me," Harry admitted once the team settled down again.

Jaws dropped as astonished stares honed in on the teenager causing him some discomfort. He knew the truth would come out sooner or later, but he had hoped to give the people serving under him more time to acclimatize and build trust in his leadership before his age became widely known.

"You're pulling our leg right?!| spluttered Walker. "18's the legal age to sign up for most militaries!"

"Anything about XCOM seem like a normal outfit to you?" Harry asked wryly. "To answer your question Brown, I hadn't actually served in any military branch prior to XCOM."

"Did they just pull you off the street?" asked Fisher.

The quiet man had a sour expression on his face. No doubt that's how he viewed his own recruitment into the secretive international alien hunting taskforce.

Harry snorted. "Something like that. When the aliens hit up the shit end of town I was living in, instead of running like all the other smart people I grabbed a gun off a dead cop and decided to fight back. By the time the XCOM strike team came to mop things up, I'd killed enough of the bastards to impress them even if I was a kid in their eyes. Normally they'd just debrief a civilian like me, warn me to keep my mouth shut if I didn't want to disappear in the middle of the night and drop me off somewhere they can monitor me until they were sure I wouldn't run off to give interviews about my extraterrestrial experience. But I'd managed to do something they'd been trying and failing to do for a long time, which made me a bit of a special case."

"You captured a thin man," commented Yoo, his Asian accent softening the words he spoke. "The first person to do so."

"The only person to do so," corrected Walker reverently.

Harry nodded, hiding his discomfort at the impressed looks he was getting. No point being humble about the truth. They'd never been able to catch a thin man alive after that. Even those with nonfatal wounds would seemingly kill themselves in a cloud of noxious gas rather than be taken prisoner.

"Got lucky with one of the bastards. He popped around the corner and nearly ran face first into me. Not sure who was more surprised, him or me. I belted him across the head and beat him to sleep with the stock of my gun. Hog tied him with duct tape and slapped some on his mouth to keep him from spitting at me. Figured at the time someone would want to talk to him. Didn't realize just how much trouble that would land me."

The teenager snorted. XCOM had been so impressed they'd offered him a spot on the strike team, courtesy of the late Colonel McCoy. _Hell if he can kill aliens, that makes him better than half the useless greenhorns taking up space and pretending to be soldiers in our barracks._ McCoy's exact words to the Commander.

Like an idiot Harry had signed on, thinking only about the action and the money that came with the rather badass sounding job. It had been every bit as exciting as he'd imagined, but his fourteen-year-old self hadn't quite understood how much trauma came along with the job. He wasn't sure he'd have been any better off just walking, but some days he regretted being convinced into joining the war against the aliens, even if he was apparently pivotal in humanities struggles for victory against their otherworldly foe.

"I'm sure base personal have filled you grunts in enough for you to piece together the rest," he sighed.

The story being thrown around about him seemed to be getting more outrageous with each retelling. Sure he was the lone survivor of the botched mission against the battleship in space, and he'd been on a few missions that would have probably killed millions had they failed. But in his opinion he wasn't better than any other soldier, just luckier. They were making him out to be some sort of superman on the battlefield, all knowing and nigh unkillable. God knows he'd seen enough good people die to not even come close to believing that.

"Hey LT, I notice you carry around three grenades," commented Sheng with interest. "What gives? I thought operational handbooks said only two for soldiers on the field unless you're designated as an engineer."

"The operational handbook is more a guideline than hard set rules," Harry corrected. "You'll find your preferred loadout after a few missions. As for the two grenade suggestion, it's mostly because people won't ever have use for more than two unless you're a specialist, and if you do you're probably in deep trouble."

"I take it you've had to use more than two on one of your missions?" Brown asked with an eyebrow raised.

A rather brazen attempt to fish for stories. Every one of the soldiers on base had heard a variation of some of the missions Harry had been on, though they were all second or third hand. The lieutenant had kept mum about his experience outside of doling out advice during training periods.

"No," Harry replied shortly.

"Then why do you carry three?" pressed Brown.

The teenager turned to face his team, sweeping a hard gaze across their curious faces.

"Two for the enemy like the handbook suggests," he said quietly. "And one for me if it comes down to it."

Their expressions sobered at the dark turn of the conversation.

"Damn," said Walker, shocked by what he heard. "That's some grim shit there LT."

Harry snorted mirthlessly. "You haven't seen what the aliens do to the poor bastards they take back to their ships alive."

For a brief moment the image of a skinless child, face twisted into a silent scream staring out with sightless eyes through the transparent lid of a stasis tank, flashed before his eyes.

"If you did," Harry murmured quietly, "you'd carry a spare for yourself too."

"Big Sky to Strike Team," interrupted their pilot over the comm. "We are approaching the AO and the LZ looks hot! We have civilians in the area and someone exchanging fire with the aliens!"

"Circle around and lower the ramp Big Sky!" Harry ordered. "We'll give them some air support."

The pilot's answer was lost to the howl of wind as the cargo bay door opened. Everyone grabbed for the handles overhead to prevent themselves from losing their footing as the skyranger cut a lazy spiral pattern over the city. Below they caught a glimpse of a few people fleeing like ants.

Green blobs of plasma streaked through the air, tearing up the side of a building. Occasionally red jets of light would return fire from within.

Harry instantly was on guard. The return fire on the aliens looked suspiciously like their own laser weapons, and there was only one other organization out there who had access to that level of technology. EXALT.

"Priority target aliens!" shouted Harry over the dull roar of the engines. "But keep an eye out for any humans returning fire! If they even look at you funny I want them dead!"

"Say again?!" Walker yelled back.

"We may be facing a three way battle here. Hold fire until we're certain, but don't hesitate to kill them even if they are human!" ordered Harry.

Their ship dropped down further and his team open fired on any of the aliens unfortunate enough to be standing out of cover. Operation Sour Pub had begun.


	4. Chapter 4

James Potter was having a bad day. It hadn't started out as a bad day; in fact, it had started out as a pretty good one. Being an auror, having a good day turn into a shit one wasn't that unusual, but even for a shit day this one was right up there at the top.

The day had started like any other, he had woken up with his beautiful wife snuggled underneath is arms. Like every morning when he awoke from sleep and laid eyes on his angel, he thanked his lucky stars that he had such an incredible woman in his life. It had taken some Marauder levels of sneakiness to get out of bed in a way that didn't wake Lily, but he had wanted to do something special for his family.

Lily was normally the one in charge of cooking, she'd insisted that they not have house elves when they had first married, but he liked to surprise her every once in a while. It was the little things that kept the romance alive, and even after seventeen years of marriage they were still very much in love.

Baby Lily had wandered down from her room at the smell of food. The youngest of the Potter clan had been a surprise, but certainly neither James or Lily were complaining.

The latest edition to the Potter family was as cute as a button, with a temperament that matched neither of her parents. Shy and quiet, the little girl couldn't have been more different from James and Lily in personality.

The father of four had happily spent an hour entertaining his two-year-old daughter while making breakfast for his family. Gently encouraging his shy daughter to help where a two-year-old could assist, he made sure to keep his wand well out of her reach. He had learned that messy lesson early on.

Baby Lily might be painfully shy, but she was going to be a powerful witch when she grew up. It was unheard of for someone so young to be able to access magic, even accidental magic, but Lily had always been special. James had known it the minute he laid eyes on his daughter, it had simply taken the world a little more time to acknowledge that.

Pancakes, eggs, sausages, bacon, toast and hash browns were all carefully hand cooked muggle style, warming charms liberally applied to keep them fresh until they were ready to be eaten. James had listened to his daughter babble with half an ear while prodding at the last of the eggs when his wife had come strolling down to greet him with a sizzling kiss and a smile that could light up the sky.

They'd eaten together, pouring over the daily prophet while making comments at unexpected bits of news, taking turns to keep an eye on their squirrely daughter who had gotten restless once her tummy had been filled.

When eight thirty rolled around, James had jumped into the shower to prepare for the day. Much to his pleasure Lily had slipped in to join him. It was the little things in life that made it worth living.

Sirius had rolled his eyes at the wide unceasing smile on the Potter clan head's face as he stepped into the office, his best friend knowing exactly what had put it there. The head of House Black pretended to gag and throw up into his waste bin by his desk. James didn't let the childish display take away any of the extra spring in his step.

Amelia Bones had called for a meeting with all her Captains that morning, and James had spent the better part of two hours throwing around ideas on security measure and response strategies they could employ to combat the growing forces of the Dark Lord. It hadn't escalated to the point where people were unwilling to head out in the streets, but there was a certain tension in the air ever since Voldemort had tipped his hand on his revival.

The meeting concluded with the point that they needed to think and work on these ideas more instead of sitting on their hands waiting for someone to be attacked. Proactive policing Amelia had called it. James was all for it, he was a man of action. Being parked at a desk most the day never sat well with him.

Too bad for James being a captain meant sitting behind a desk filling out paperwork on other people's after action reports more often than not. He probably would have never taken the post if it wasn't for Lily. Sure it paid more, but he had the entire Potter fortune, what need did he have for a raise?

No, the only reason he took the position requiring more responsibility and less legwork was to put his loving wife's mind at ease, and lord knew he'd give an arm if that meant Lily was happy. Though some days he envied Sirius who still got to drop all pretense of filling out papers at his desk and run off to answer the first call that comes in through the floo. Bastard usually took the time to dump said paperwork on his desk with a cheeky wink before leaving.

Arse.

However, safety wasn't something he could afford anymore. The recent cutback to the auror department a few years prior to Voldemort's return had downsized their police force, leaving them very short of hand with the war looming on the horizon. The new recruits were being put through the academy as quickly as they could pass the strict examination process, but it would be a while before their department was truly wartime ready.

At the moment, even the captains were being put out on patrol and responding to every panicked call that was flooding their floo gate. More often than not it was a false alarm, but no stone left unturned and all that.

James had returned to the work area to find Sirius's kneeling by the fireplace speaking rapidly to the floating head of a worried looking woman. The old witch had apparently spotted some odd looking people wandering suspiciously around outside her neighborhood. And she couldn't apparate in or out of the area which was of even greater concern.

As Sirius ordered the woman to step back so that he could go through the gate, the flames abruptly roared blue, startling the dark haired man into yelping before dying down to a regular orange. Repeated attempts to reconnect with the woman had failed.

James knew immediately something had happened and had followed a worried Sirius to the apparition point. They had the general location of the woman's home based on the address from where the floo call had come in from, they would try to get as close as possible through appartation and then hoof it there on foot. Auror Biggs and Jones joined them as backup.

The closest they managed to get was still half a mile away from the old woman's location. The witch lived in a muggle area, downtown from the looks of the buildings and shops nearby. It was eerily quiet, far too quiet for a weekday morning. None of the muggle motorcars were seen on the road, and there didn't appear to be anyone out and about either. Strange.

A quick _humuculos revealo_ charm from Biggs deepened the mystery. There were no signs human life near them. Now more than a little bit alarmed, the four-man team had moved rapidly for the witch's last known location under James's direction, keeping a wary eye out for any signs of enemy movement, or indeed any life at all.

Ten rather silent minutes of nerve-wracking half jogging led them to the rather normal looking home of the woman who had reported the anti-apparition field that had blanketed her neighborhood. They had immediately tensed seeing the door hanging loosely off its hinge. Someone had kicked the door in with great force judging by the boot shaped print on the ruined entrance laying on the floor a few meters from the entrance.

James sent Biggs and Jones to circle the home to see if they could spot the intruders around back while he and Sirius had entered carefully, wands drawn to cover one another's blind spot.

Sirius tried calling for the woman, but got no response.

The living room was a mess, upturned furniture and scorch marks from stray spell fire littered the small space. There had apparently been a struggle, though there were no signs of anyone still there. No blood to indicate injuries, and no body to be found, though that certainly didn't rule out homicide in a world where anyone with a wand could probably transfigurate a corpse into something less noticeable.

Biggs entered through the backdoor to report that it was all clear out back, and that was when all hell broke loose. The sound of shattering glass startled the three aurors into whipping their wands to face the direction of the noise. A small green flashing orb bounced once on the carpet floor before rolling in between Biggs's feet.

The woman had stared down at the oddly shaped object with eyebrows furrowed in confusion, opening her mouth to ask a question she never got to finish. The noise had been deafening, a massive explosion that rung James's ears. Blistering heat washed up against his skin despite the distance, instantly drying and chapping the exposed flesh.

But that seemed inconsequential when compared to what happened to Biggs. James had seen some pretty horrific things in his time, both as an auror and as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. The broken bodies of people that had been burnt, cut and smashed. He'd even seen a fair share of people die in that manner, bad business all around. Still, there was something especially brutal in watching Biggs get blown to pieces.

One moment she had been standing there, and the next there were bloody chunks of her all over the room. A small part of James detached from the moment noticed absentmindedly that both her boots were still somehow exactly where they had been, bits of bone and flesh sticking out the top of the leather like macabre Halloween lawn ornaments.

And that was what had turned a relatively good day into a bad one. In fact the day seemed downright determined to take the title of Worst Day Ever with each passing moment.

"Get down!" Sirius screamed as green light tore through the open doorway.

Both men dived for the floor, not bothering to try for shield spells thinking it was the killing curse. The explosions and smell of burning material that followed proved otherwise.

Outside James could hear Jones throwing curses back at their unseen foes, the familiar swooping noise of the man's favorite evisceration curse filling the air next to the odd whining emerald spell that the enemy seemed to prefer.

"Jones!" James bellowed as green light forced him to keep his head down. "Get inside! We'll cover you!"

Sirius had bellied crawled over to the broken window, peeking his head out through the space the odd spells had come through. He quickly raised a hand up to show two fingers as James moved up on his opposite side.

"Got one bloke on the left behind one of them blue muggle cars," the Black Head of House whispered. "Another next to the lamppost. I got that one!"

"On three," hissed James.

"Three!" they shouted together, the old joke from their Hogwarts days slipping through despite the dire situation.

Together they popped up into the space and began hurling curses at their designated targets. James noted that the man he was throwing stunners at was rather tall, or maybe it was his thinness that gave him the impression of height. He was dressed in a cobalt muggle suit, and held a long gleaming silver device in his hands.

The first pair of stunners James threw missed the target, the red lights smacking harmlessly into the side of the car. His target immediately crouched down to lower his profile swiveling his head about to try to catch a glimpse of James. The odd movement of the man's neck raised the hair on the back of the wizard's neck.

Cursing his poor aim, James switched to bludgeoning hexes, hoping to scare his opponent into switching locations. The hexes slammed into the side of the car with the force of a charging bull, rocking the entire frame of the vehicle. Metal dented and windows broke, showering his opponent with glass, the howl of the vehicles sirens adding to the commotion. The unnaturally thin man remained stubbornly in place.

Sirius gave a whoop of victory next to James having had more luck with his enemy. James chanced a glance at his friend's target and caught the similarly dressed man dropping into a boneless mess on the pavement. Curiously, a cloud of green noxious looking gas almost immediately filled the air around his fallen form, hiding the body out of sight.

"The hell?" Sirius muttered.

"Jones!" bellowed James returning his attention back to his own target. "Get your arse in here!"

The young lanky auror bolted from behind the tree he had been taking shelter, making a beeline for the backdoor of the house. James continued to hammer the last target's cover, joined in by an enthusiastic Sirius who was switching between bludgeoning hexes and cutting curses.

Just as Jones neared the shadow of safety, bright sickly green light caught him across the torso. James felt the nauseating plummet of his heart as the young man folded under the force of the attack, his torso bursting into a bloody flaming mess. Jones hit the ground with a meaty thump, never even getting the chance to scream.

What killed Jones came barreling around the corner, and for a second James couldn't help but stare.

It was definitely not human, despite its humanoid form. Standing perhaps only half a head shorter than Hagrid but looking large enough to wrestle the half giant, the newcomer bore heavy dark olive armor that looked straight out of the history pages detailing the goblin rebellions.

What little skin that was exposed was a deep red, leathery and pulsating with veins. Golden eyes with pitch dark irises swept the battlefield, and they narrowed maliciously when they spotted the two men by the windowsill.

It raised the massive oblong silver device in its hands, immediately showering their position with green light. James shouted a word that Lily would have slapped him for as the wall above him simply vanished under the force of the odd creature's attack. He heard it give a deep throated roar, a sound muted by the mask it wore. The spine chilling sound was answered by echoing howls from out of sight.

"Shit!" swore Sirius. "James, we need to fall back and get reinforcements!"

The auror captain blind fired half a dozen wordless disarming spells through what remained of their cover. "Go, I'll cover you!"

Sirius stood up, careful to keep himself out of sight and began to back out of the room to find a position he could set up over-watch so that James could retreat without being torn to pieces. As he crossed the living room, Sirius suddenly dropped his wand, his hands leaping to his head as a primal roar of pain tore itself from his throat.

James whirled to look for an unexpected enemy that may have flanked them, but saw nothing in the room.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Sirius screamed as he dropped to his knees, hands gripping his head.

"Sirius!" James bellowed. He dropped onto his stomach and crawled over to his writhing friend.

Sirius was practically convulsing on the floor as he clutched at his head, fingers digging bloody tracks into his scalp as if he were trying to get at the pain hurting him from within his skull.

The thud of an object hitting the floor caused James to turn and look behind him. His eye widened as he spotted the egg like shape of the object that had killed Biggs. Throwing himself over Sirius, James covered his friend's body as best he could and threw up the most powerful shield charm he had.

Most people made the mistake of using _protego_ as their shield spell of choice in all situations. It wasn't a bad one as far as protective magic went. It was capable of blocking or at least lessening the effects of the majority of spells witches and wizards liked to throw around.

However, _protego_ was a charm designed to halt or slow down the direct transference of magical power, spells like stunners or cutting hexes that inflicted its effects when the spell made contact with the target. It did little to stop direct elemental energies or kinetic force, a little known fact for those who did not take the time to study up on the art of dueling.

The heat and concussive wave of the explosive that had killed Biggs had given James an inkling of the nature of the device, and so he immediately threw up the elemental shield spell _sparatus_ , that Lily favored.

Kinetic energy and heat slammed into the invisible wall James erected, the temperature around him remaining a cool indoor ambient despite the sea of orange flames inches from his face. James had made the right choice in protective spell from keeping them from being roasted, but unfortunately like the _protego_ it was not without weakness. _Sparatus_ while amazing for stopping elemental energies, was not as good of a barrier for physical objects.

The firestorm was kept at bay; the shrapnel caused by the grenade tearing into the building structure was not.

James shouted in pain as wooden splinters showered him. His dragon hide cloak deflected the worst of it, leaving little more than bruises along his body where the pieces struck. Sirius had not been so lucky.

A stray piece of metal roof rafter had found its way into the few weak points of the auror grade combat robes, impaling the man in the stomach. Already the navy blue of the auror uniform was turning dark with blood from the wound.

"Shit!" James swore as he knelt over his friend, trying to get an assessment of how bad the injury was.

Sirius batted his hands away weakly, his paling face twisted into a grimace of pain though he appeared to have recovered from the mental attack.

"Forget me!" he hissed. "Get the hell out of here James!"

"Like hell," James retorted.

He cast a wary glance over his shoulder to make sure nothing was coming around the corner. Grabbing Sirius by the shoulders, he dragged his friend behind a couch where he would be out of the way of stray enemy fire.

"James, I'm not the one with wife and kids waiting for me to come home! Get your arse out of here you git! We're both goners if we stay!"

"For once in your life Black, shut the hell up and do as you're told!" snapped James angrily. "Put some god damn pressure on the wound. I'm not winning this fight just to have you bleed out on me you wanker!"

Sirius snarled something in reply, but complied with his friend's order. A heavy foreign whining noise filled the air causing both men to look up in alarm. Swearing at the unfairness of the world, James made for the window again.

Scrambling back towards the position he had previously retreated from, James paused long enough to snatch up Sirius's Ash Wood wand and tossing it to his friend. He poked his head out the opening and nearly suffered a heart attack at the equally alarmed looking red face staring back at him inches away.

Without thinking, he raised his wand and instinctively cast a silent stunner into the face of his adversary. The creature stumbled backwards, shaking its head as if someone had smacked it upside the head, but remained very much conscious. In fact, it was looking a little bit mad judging by the gleaming promise of violence in its beady eyes.

A reflexive piercing hex drilled a neat hole into the large monster's eye socket, spurts of brain matter and what passed for its blood exploding messily out of the back of its head. It remained standing for a moment before it fell on its back.

Not entirely without weakness then.

Good.

James let loose a blistering hail of curses at the nearest batch of his red skin foes, their large forms folded comically low to the ground in an effort to stay behind random pieces of cover. A movement in the sky caught the former chasers eye and he turned and spotted the muggle aircraft circling in the air.

James was probably one of those rare few purebloods who had a concept of what a muggle airplane was. In fact, he was probably one of the only purebloods to have ever ridden in one.

Lily had wanted to take the family on a trip to a muggle theme park in America a few years back, Disneyland or something like it. She'd wanted the family to experience the muggle way of life, and had booked them tickets on an airplane.

The kids had been rather excited at the prospect of traveling muggle style something James had not shared to quite the same level. He'd flown all his life on a broom, and he loved being in the air, but even an hour in the sky could leave his crotch and rear sore despite all the claims of cushioning charms broomsticks advertised. Probably why the

Persians still preferred using flying rugs despite their penitence to randomly stall in the air when the weavings got tattered with age.

Ten hours in the sky sounded like a nightmare on his ability to ever be able to please his wife in the bedroom again. Still he loved Lily, and anything she wanted to do he'd gladly give it a shot, and it had been surprisingly comfortable much to his surprise.

This one was nothing like the massive comfy international flight Lily had booked them on. It was much smaller, squat and almost boxy in design in comparison to the long aerodynamic shape of the craft James had boarded. Gray in color with tinted windows, it looked much more predatory than the airplanes that had been parked at the airport.

The backside of the plane opened up as the craft circled. Death and destruction began to rain out at the inhuman creatures assaulting his position. Beams of red light cut down the thin man in a suit, ripping his torso to shreds. Green clouds plumed from the body that was torn in half. The big red skinned creatures split up and began running for cover. James watched in bewilderment as two were torn to shreds before they could reach cover.

The aircraft circled, the backside continuing to pour out a barrage of burning red light at the creatures below it. James spotted a dark skinned man leap from the back of the airship as it hovered over a water tower. He held a long sleek dark object in his hand, something that resembled what James knew to be a muggle gun. The man propped his weapon against a piece of piping and began to periodically take shots at some unseen enemy, the booming crack of the rifle audible even to James despite the distance.

The airplane circled again, this time hovering over the open space of the local park near the house. More people came sliding down long lengths of rope dropped from the back of the ship before it took off into the sky. They moved out of his sight, their steps hurried but cautious.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, James pulled back over to his downed friend. It seemed help had come in the most unexpected form. Now they just needed to get Sirius to a healer, and fast.


End file.
